Solitude
by black.maple.tree
Summary: Kyouya has nothing in common with the middle-class, half-bred, flirty girl who lives her life by the rules of a foolish game. And he certainly won't let her suck him into her frivolous world. Her life is full of nonsense. KyouyaOC KyouyaxOC


Solitude

Sakae stretched her hands to the sky as her headphones filled her whole body with song. She didn't care that people were staring; they stared all the time, after all. This was _her scene_—her one chance every year to flaunt, flirt, and stand on top of the world—and she was always bent on making the most of it. She walked right down the middle of the dirt trail as if she owned it, causing the other girls reluctantly to move out of the way and glare, then roll their eyes to their friends and whisper cruelly in hushed voices. She had not a single friend on the hundred-acre grounds; she'd make it that way, and she _loved_ it that way.

A few boys who were wrapped up in early-morning fishing looked her way and broke into dizzy smiles automatically, so she graciously tilted her head forward just enough for her wavy dark-brown hair to tumble over her shoulders. Of course, she had_ tons_ of _boys _who would claim to be her friends, but she didn't even care to learn their names. It was all part of the inner-circle's game, and those poor, unsuspecting souls had no idea. As she passed them by, one boy's fishing line began stretching out of control, and he snapped his attention back to reality as his friends laughed and nudged him playfully. His face was flushed red with embarrassment as he hastily turned back to face her, to see if she'd witnessed his stumble. She pretended she hadn't noticed and turned up the volume on her CD player to drown out the teases as she passed them by. It was no wonder she always won this tournament. Her whole life revolved around it.

The camp-year was half over already, and for the first time, she'd been too preoccupied to keep track of her admirers. She could tell who they were just by looking at them, by observing the shy grins and boyish blushes on their faces, but she liked to record their names in her notebook. That way, she could determine whether or not she'd beaten a previous year's record or if she'd lost anyone over the course of the regular year. But she'd been spending a lot of time with _one_ guy in particular this year, so much so that she'd been neglecting to record her triumphs. She had a lot of catching up to do these next few weeks.

It wasn't the number of guys she attracted that counted towards winning; no, it only depended on _one_. For her, this had never been a problem. It was always too easy to lure just one courtier, so every year she took to seducing as many as possible. Fearlessly, she'd throw herself into a crowd of boys and have each one of them fixated on her within the hour. Her more challenging projects could take three to five days to win over at the most: the nice guys who dreamed of a girl with a good heart. She knew how to play that role, too, though. So by the time the other girls finally got the guts to approach their blindly selected suspects, Sakae will have already locked their eyes on solely her.

As she turned a corner on the trail, she caught sight of another girl with whom she competed every year. She _was_ one of the good girls: blonde, petite, plenty of friends in and out of the circle, and a heart focused on other things much healthier than the game she participated in just for fun. Sakae couldn't understand why such a girl would get involved in this flirting game to begin with; in fact, the idea was ludicrous even to _her_ (but she competed to hold a title—maybe not the most admirable one, but a title nonetheless). Her rival, however, with her good grades, kind heart, and pure-blooded family was in it for the fun, and that angered the brunette endlessly. It seemed like no one took this game very seriously anymore—_why_ did they think it was just a side-activity? This was the _sole reason_ she came here every year. Why couldn't she have just a _little_ more competition?

Up ahead, she saw her favorite subject by far: Kyouya Ootori, the ever-serious, ever-observant rich boy who was dragged here by some over-excited French friend of his. (When she'd found out she wasn't the only Eurasian in the camp anymore, and that her half-French rival was joining in the game this year, she'd felt that much less original and much less of an exotic novelty. He was a guy, though, so her title on the girl's side of the game wouldn't be threatened.) Kyouya was the reason she was so behind on her schedule this year, and the reason why she was fearful for that final camp day when she'd have to say goodbye. She normally didn't think much of her suspects; she simply found Kyouya interesting, she presumed. She didn't usually associate with other people unless it was to flirt. She had no friends at home, no friends in camp. She wasn't here to make friends, though. She was here to _win_.

Kyouya was seated on his usual bench writing in his familiar black notepad, eyes scanning the pages quickly, mind clearly concentrating on something far more important than the canoe trip planned for later that morning. So she wasted no time in approaching his bench and taking up the rest of the space available. It was a shame, really, that he hadn't decided to join the inner-circle like his friend. He had the looks and the charm to win over plenty of girls on the outer circle. (She had only seen him be purposefully charming to the camp director, though, when he tried to switch out of his friend's cabin). He was a suspect and not a player, so she thought it a waste. She crossed her legs and turned up the volume on her CD player to get his attention. He looked over at her crossly.

"Could you turn that down?" he said, more as an order than a request.

"Jeez, Kyouya, you don't have to be so rude all the time."

He sighed in frustration and snapped his book shut. He knew she wouldn't let him concentrate.

"I'm not rude. I'm trying to work, if you don't mind," he stated, rising from the bench. She followed suit and paused her music to hear him better. Then, in the blink of an eye, she transformed herself into an airier girl with lighter footing and an enchanting giggle.

"You're always working," she stated, putting on her best 'cute and kind-hearted smile'. Subtly, she took hold of his light morning wind-breaker and gazed up at him from beneath her eyelashes. "Why don't you take a break for a change?"

He smirked to himself. "Don't try that with me. I know your tricks, Sakae. You can't play _me_ for a fool."

"Why would I want to do that?" she asked innocently, twirling a lock of hair mock-absentmindedly. Then she laughed wickedly to herself and dropped her act. "I don't understand you, Kyouya. You'd win in no time. You should have entered," she lamented, fixing her blue camp T-shirt so that it hugged her figure just perfectly. As they walked, she pulled her lip-gloss from her clutch and recoated her lips nonchalantly. She would never do so in front of any other boy; that would be suicide—she'd lose her reputation! But with Kyouya, she let herself loose and was able to speak normally without switching from persona to persona to win over the various types of boys in the camp.

"Because I find this game to be a pointless ordeal. You can't make someone fall in love with you—all you can do is provoke a strange and immature infatuation."

She groaned in pretend annoyance, already familiar with his logical approach to… well, _life_. He was always prepared for everything: inclement weather, a dead cell phone, shortage of money for the nearby mall… To her, the _logical_ thing for him to do would be to utilize his good looks and make a name for himself, to gain attention, to earn a title. That's all _she_ wanted. But she knew her own ideas were mysterious to him, so she supposed they were just too different to agree on the principles of Love Trap.

"Didn't you do it all the time? At school?" she questioned, recalling the stories of the famous host club of Ouran High. He shook his head with certainty.

"No, we simply entertained. None of our customers were in love with us, no matter what they liked to think."

"And_ you_ only took care of the expenses," she said, knowing just what came next in the pattern.

"Exactly."

They walked together for some time, passing up fellow campers who were still just waking up. It was too early for the cicadas, but there were plenty of birds singing and bees buzzing in the woodlands. Sakae pressed the play button on her CD player when she saw Kyouya flip open his book again. She asked him almost every day what he constantly felt the need to jot down, but he always proclaimed that it was "business" and that it wouldn't interest her. Whatever.

She'd met Kyouya a month ago—the second or third day of camp—and had approached him partly because his sophisticated and mature aura had been intriguing, but mostly because he was a new face and she'd wanted to win his affections before the other girls could spot him. Love Trap hadn't technically started yet, but she'd been eager to beat her personal record.

To her surprise, he hadn't completely fallen to his knees and chased after her, and persisting for several days hadn't worked, either. She hadn't been able to accept any blow to her reputation or confidence—she'd _never_ been ignored or rejected by a guy before—so she'd forced him to let her into his life, and ever since, he'd been the only person with whom she felt she could talk freely. "After all, if he's not interested in the game," she'd thought back then, "he won't be swayed by any other girls. If I can make myself his friend, then that'll be as close as any girl will get to him."

Little had she known just how attached she could get to someone, how nice it was to let down her airs. She didn't always have to be false anymore.

She glanced over at him in annoyance; he was scribbling intently, not paying her much mind. She wanted to _talk_—couldn't he write _later_? She sometimes wondered if writing in his book was his way of trying to bore her so she'd leave him alone (which naturally meant she always did the opposite). Deciding to divert his attention, she made her music a little louder, tilted her head back, and started to sing.

A hauntingly joyful melody emanated from her lips, sweet and mysterious, strangely familiar.

Kyouya smiled knowingly. "I'll admit, you have a very nice voice," he complemented, not looking up from his book.

"_Davvero?_" she questioned, her face bright with the flattery. In a fit of girlish excitement, she paused the song again and rested her headphones around her neck. Complements seemed to be worth much more coming from him than from the other boys she pursued.

He nodded, a small smile on his face. "Although I have no idea what you're saying."

"With all those languages your family had you learn, you've never once spoken Italian?"

"Of course not," was his immediate reply. Obviously, he'd reverted back to his 'cool guy' attitude. "It's virtually useless in the business and medical worlds."

"What about for fun, then?"

He closed his book, to her immense pleasure, and folded his hands into his pockets. "I don't see the fun in learning a language if it has nothing to offer me."

She laughed and skipped ahead of him a little, filled with the high of the early morning air, the gorgeous outdoors, the sweet scents of pine and oak, and, of course, of the conversation. Her conversations with Kyouya, no matter what the topic, were always infinitely more mentally stimulating than any she'd ever had with the other boys.

"Always thinking of yourself, huh?" she teased, recalling the countless times he'd declined to join in on something because it wasn't useful to him. He smirked slightly and nodded.

"Of course. I have my own reputation to uphold, my own goals to meet. You know all about it."

She frowned and crossed her arms. "What's_ that_ supposed to mean?"

He looked up inquisitively. "Nothing. Just that you focus all of your energy on your goals as I do mine. Even if they are… _different_, to say the least."

She let out a dry laugh. "Yeah, a little different…"

Kyouya then pulled out his cell phone, so she angrily thrust her headphones onto her ears once more and pressed down hard on the play button, not caring that the tiny machine could break. She didn't feel like arguing her stance today; she knew he probably thought her a silly, flirty, obnoxious girl whom he couldn't shake off his back. Not once had it ever occurred to her just to walk away from him, though.

As if to upset her more this morning, she caught sight of another girl up ahead—one of the popular girls in the camp about whom everyone spoke highly and called adorable and sweet—hanging around her own target and his friends, giggling, clasping her hands together like an angel, and_ clinging_ to the unsuspecting boy every second she got.

_The nerve_, Sakae fumed. While _her_ infamous reputation was littered with rumors and exaggerations, this "angel" could get away with almost anything—her name had no tarnish at all. And yet she acted out her part just as freely, just as flirtatiously, and twice as haughtily. _I hate her. So full of herself because she's rich and pure bred… It's people like _her_ who turn this game into the slutty contest the people outside think it is._

The girl, with her dyed light brown hair and sparkling blue contacts, slipped her arms around one of her project's and brought her body as close to his as she could. Her silver heart earrings and charm bracelet reflected the sunlight right into Sakae's eyes. God, she hated that girl...

The boy's friends were with them, fishing, chatting, and when the girl saw her chance, she withdrew one hand from her selected target and lightly brushed the shoulder of another boy who was speaking to her bashfully. _And they're calling _me _a slut? This whore needs to learn to keep her hands to herself. _I_ don't do that; that's not how the game is played._

She heard Kyouya give a grunt of amusement, painting a faint blush on her face.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," he said matter-of-factly, a subtle smirk still adorning his visage. She automatically grabbed the sleeve of his jacket to make him face her; she _hated_ not being in the know.

"No, really," she urged, the confidence in her eyes faltering for a few seconds. Kyouya sighed and removed her hand from his coat as if to remind her to be an adult. She felt her face heat up more—in both embarrassment and anger—at his cool and controlled manner. Despite all the gossip that spread about her in this camp, the only thing that really sunk beneath her skin was hearing people_ laugh_ at her. Rumors she could blow off—after all, most of those girls were just terribly racist and unbelievably jealous. But laughter was the only thing that could bring her back down to earth while she was flaunting and keeping up her prideful airs. It was her secret fear, of sorts. She knew this, Kyouya knew this, and she'd _never _let him spill it to anyone.

"It's just interesting that you're so bothered by that girl. She's only doing what you do."

Her eyes shot up and her cheeks flared red. (It was times like these that she wished she weren't half-Caucasian, which made her prone to more severe blushing than the others.)

"I do _not_!" she shot back, uncontrollably defensive. Kyouya just stared with semi-surprised but mostly calculating eyes. She pointed toward the girl, disgust in her every gesture. "She's a _slut_! She has her hands all over them, see?"

"Alright, alright. I didn't realize the difference," he stated calmly, trying to appease her a little so she'd settle down and not cause a scene. He gently placed a strong hand on her shoulder and pushed her forward so that they were walking again, away from the area. She crossed her arms and kept her glare up, still not entirely satisfied.

Kyouya led her down the trail, releasing his hold on her only when they turned the corner into the woods. It wasn't that he was ashamed to hang out with her, but when she got angry, she was _vicious_. She was the "unstoppable blind rage" type. He knew if she were let loose, she'd rip the girl back there to shreds with her sharp words.

One of the first things he'd learned about her was how self-conscious she was. She didn't hesitate to argue her stance if anyone insulted her, and in that way she was strong. Through his dissecting eyes he could see her readiness to fight back, but he could also see that she carried a load on her shoulders. He considered her half-breed status to be the leading cause of her fiery nature and dire need to prove herself in the ridiculous competition Love Trap. He hadn't confronted her with this yet, though. He kept the knowledge, as he so often did, to himself.

"So you're saying you think I'm like her," she stated flatly. He sighed deeply, an ache already beginning to form in the back of his head.

"No. I'm saying it's—"

"Interesting," she finished for him.

"Right."

She didn't say anything, so he decided to follow suit and let her burn off the steam. A lot of people spread disgusting rumors about her, so he presumed it was only natural for such a girl to be sensitive about those comments. She was endlessly more sensitive when it came down to her heritage, though.

She entertained him. He had to admit, he got a lot of little internal laughs by trying her patience and ignoring her. Just flipping open his notebook painted a frustrated scowl on her face. He found amusement in toying with her that way. It was a kind of payback for what he'd gathered she was trying to do: make him fall in love with her. What a _senseless_ idea—what a senseless _game_.

But she drove him crazy sometimes, he couldn't deny. It reminded him of when he'd first met Tamaki and how aggravated he'd been trying to figure _him _out. When he'd first looked at Sakae, he'd seen a lowly, half-European middle-class citizen from whom he could gain nothing. But quite to his surprise, he couldn't shake said middle-class girl off his back. She tailed him everywhere—it was part of her game, he was sure—and she was hopelessly illogical.

She was outgoing where he was reserved, extravagant where he was conservative, and touchy where he was detached. Tamaki had said once that they were similar because they were both fixated on their goals, that they made a good pair because of their ambition, stubbornness and, (as he had affectionately said,) tendency toward obsession. But he couldn't see the similarity—their ideas of a "goal" were much too different. She had her silly summer aim, and he had his life-altering one.

"I really don't play that way, you know," she repeated, wanting to make sure her reputation in _his_ eyes was not soiled.

A slight smile betrayed his face. "I know."

He didn't dislike her, though—not one bit. He found her amusing.

Sakae's cell phone rang its usual tone: some silly pop song by Namie Amuro. (He could swear he'd never heard of the singer until watching Sakae dance to her music at the weekly Friday night festivals.) She reached into her clutch and pulled out a regular commoner's silver phone with a panda-eating-bamboo strap, observed the number, then let it roll to voice mail. He watched her drop it back into the little red bag, purse her lips, and ignore the ringing.

"Who is it?" he asked in passing.

She shrugged and grasped her CD player from her pocket to check the time—something Kyouya had observed her do whenever she was fidgety. "Just the family," she replied vaguely, no sense of attachment evident.

By "the family", he knew she meant her _Japanese _family. She wouldn't hesitate to pick up the phone otherwise. After a tiresome night of restless dancing, twirling between groups of boys, and ignoring another phone call, she'd confided in him that she would never accept calls from that side of her family during the camp year. It was her vacation from all that, she'd said. She didn't exactly look Japanese, so she was treated differently from her pure-bred cousins.

He just nodded and continued walking with her. She was listening to her CD player again to discourage any questioning on his part. She knew, though, that he was polite enough not to ask her anything so personal. He hadn't since the first time. Plus, he wouldn't profit from it.

They entered a larger part of the camp after passing through the woody trail. Sakae caught sight of yet another competitor: a younger, bossy girl with an attitude that made all the older girls hate her without exception. She'd even tried to talk down to Sakae a few weeks ago, thinking as so many other people did that she couldn't even speak proper Japanese, and she'd gotten the lecture and critique of her life. (After all, the half-breed didn't let _anyone_ openly think they were better than her). What was really just _great_ to Sakae, though, was that this girl had a thing for Kyouya. In this way, she could extract a much more thorough revenge than just a tell-her-off. She subtly hooked her arm around his as they walked for the benefit of their bitter freshman observer.

Up ahead, a group of five crushing boys waved to her and motioned for her to join them. They were arranged at a volleyball-net, just about to start playing, and claimed to be short a player. She sighed pleasantly to Kyouya, shrugged her shoulders, and gave him a lighthearted gaze. "Duty calls," she informed him.

"So it does."

She handed him her CD player and her clutch, then held one finger up to the boys to motion them to wait for her. She turned back to him. "So you're not going to tell me I'm a silly flirt?"

"Of course not," he stated matter-of-factly, placing her things in his pocket and pulling out his notebook. "You don't care, and it doesn't hurt me."

She giggled, hands on her hips, a playful grin on her face. "Well, I'll see you later, then." She turned around to see whether or not the obnoxious freshman girl was still watching—which she clearly was—and then checked to make sure her guy friends weren't. With a capricious longing for an ultimate revenge, she leaned up, her arm still hooked through Kyouya's, and gave him a quick, light kiss on the check.

He looked down at her mildly surprised and entirely confused; after all, her group of courtiers was standing a mere fifty feet away. But he saw she was focused behind them on a rival of hers (who happened to be marching away with her arms tightly crossed), and immediately he understood the situation. He'd witnessed the racist accusation himself along with its brutal counter attack. He had to say that the girl had had it coming, although he didn't see where the kiss came in.

She smiled at him sheepishly, gratefully, and triumphantly. "Okay. Well, see you!" And she ran off to join the boys.

Kyouya watched her gracefully glide over to them, an uncontrollable smile coming across his face. He took a seat on a nearby bench and watched as she took a place on the team facing away from him. They played, and when her team landed a point, she whirled around to beam at him. Her dark brown hair flew back every time she ran forward to hit the ball, he couldn't help but notice.

He reached into his pocket for her CD player and decided to see what she'd been singing to—just out of curiosity. Then, absent-mindedly, he brought a hand to his cheek where her lips had touched. To stop another smile from surfacing, he smirked to himself and shook his head at the frivolity of the action. Normally, he didn't like to watch her flirt with the other commoners, but today he strangely didn't mind it so much. It actually seemed funny, with the kiss and all. It was like she was telling him she was only playing with them.

_She's unique, that one… _he thought, finding comfort in each acknowledgment she gave him. She was apart from him again, but not really… _disconnected_.

The music from her CD player filled his ears with a strong, sweet ballad—entirely the opposite of the annoyingly repetitive pop songs she danced to every Friday. This was slower, calmer, more sincere, and somehow—incomprehensibly—less foreign to him.

"_Solitude._" He picked up that one word, in the mix of cognates.

Solitude.

_Not all the time_, he thought amusedly, turning the volume up to drown out the noise coming from the court.

_It's not necessary all the time_.

~…~

Author's Note: Rewrote parts of this chapter. This is just for fun. I may or may not continue to turn this plot into a full length story, but if you're interested, the first chapter of the would-be main story "Love Trap" is up!


End file.
